Replacement
by Yma
Summary: Yet another facet in the Dalkholme family drama. This is an angry fic, and it rated primaraly for swearing. PLEASE RnR!


Disclaimer: None of this is mine; I just borrowed, fiddled around, played, and showed people. The actual characters belong to Marvel and other powerful people, got it? Good.

Replacement

By Yma

I wonder if he'll ever know how much I hate him.

Fuck, I hate him. We've never met and I loath him with all my being, almost as much as I despise HER.

Am I a bad son, for hating my own mother?

Probably, but I don't give a shit, it's not as though she does. 

The bastard and the bitch, that's what I call them, those are the only names they deserve, the filthy freaks.

The bitch goes on and on about her bastard constantly, she really does, always has, probably knows how much it hurts me. Or used to, doesn't any more, not much. I'm used to the pain now, like a sore that's scabbed over. 

Every night I'm with her she moans about him, what he looked like, what she would have done with him, how much she missed him, how perfect he was, and what a disappointment I am. 

Me, the replacement.

Bitch.

Don't spend all my time with her, luckily, she handed me over to foster care when I was two, but she keeps coming back, visiting. No matter where I run, where I hide, she comes, roots me out. 

It's stupid, first she acts sweet, goes on about how she loves me, how she's sorry about abandoning me, but within a few weeks, if not days, her song changes. That's when things get interesting, and painful. For both of us.

That's the ridiculous thing, there was a time when I felt sorry for her, when *I* felt guilty, when I actually wanted to make her happy, even as she was beating me black and blue most nights, I wanted to make her happy. Maybe I was naive, maybe I was sick, maybe I was just trying to be a good son, I don't know.

I remember this time when I tried to make things better. I painted myself blue with some poster paint, stuck a pair of face Vulcan ears on, and tied a piece of blue string to my pants, tried to make myself into him for her. I really did. 

I'll always remember the look on her face when I'd showed her what I'd done.

I was in the hospital for three weeks afterwards, and I was only five.

I don't feel any love for her now. Fact is, if I could I'd have a full blood transfusion, get all her filth out of me, that's how I feel about my mommy.

At best, I suppose I have some pity for her, who couldn't feel a little sorry for the stupid slut? But I'd still shoot her in the head if I was given the chance.

What about my dad? I hear you cry. What's he like? Is he as long suffering as I am? 

Well, truth us, I've barely met the guy, and got no wish to spend any father son time with that monster. Saw him a couple of times, nasty peace of work, pure animal, a real brutal fucker. Threatened to kill me because I was a 'runt,' but mom wouldn't let him, yeah, thanks mom, yeah, that's your job, isn't it?

So, guess you now got a hint of how fucked up my folks are, right? Oh come on, after all I've said you can't go thinking their exactly the average American suburban family. They're freaks, each and every one of them, and they hate me because I'm the only one approaching normal.

I think that's the real reason why the bitch beat me black and blue, to make me feel small, to destroy what little self respect I have, to make me ashamed of what I am. Didn't work, I won't let it work. That'd be like letting her win.

Suppose you want to know the whole story, now, don't you? Well? You want to hear the comedic tragic, fucking fairytale that is my life? OK here it is.

Once there was this woman, a mutant, a per- no, a creature born with super human powers. She had the ability to shape-shift, right, take on any form, but her true form was a weird freak, blue skin, yellow eyes, red hair, you get the deal. Anyway, she used this ability to get power, money, knowledge; she was a spy, a mercenary, an assassin, a whore. But one day, after performing the latter of these professions, she became pregnant, and when she had the brat, she learns that it's like her, a mutant. A blue, freaky looking thing, like something out of a biblical wood carving, it even had, and still has, a spaded tail, for Christ sake! Course, he was so freaky that she had to run away from his father, and I think at first she hated the kid for that, 'cos he couldn't pass like her. A real freak. Well, that's irony for you. Anyway, at first she isn't that chuffed with the kid, but she learns to love it, and takes it to this other powerful mutant for safe keeping. Then some bad shit went down, I don't know the details, but she lost it, got attacked by some wolves or something. She dropped the poor brat off a bridge, thought it'd died at first. Then she learnt that it was picked up by this family, was doing quite well for itself. But with the other mutant still looking for it, she didn't dare go back for the kid, so she leaves it with the adopted parents. 

Get it so far? The mom looses the kid; the kid grows up a freak in a normal family. Boo hoo, tragedy, sorrow, much crying. See, aren't you just breaking up over this?

That's not the end of the story, though, 'cos this tale has a punch-line. 

See, this woman is racked with guilt, she's been a mother once and wants to be again, wants to prove herself, perhaps, wants to actually keep a kid, a flesh and blood child. So she goes and whores herself off to another freak, guy of the name Victor Creed, who, like I've said, is a real nasty piece of shit. Anyway, she gets pregnant by him, has another son, a way to prove herself as a mother, to make it up, to love and praise, to replace the one that was lost, but there's a hitch. And here's the punch-line, here's the funny bit, here is the golden fucking moment. 

She finally pushes this poor brat out of that misshapen lump of flesh she calls a body and she sees that he looks perfectly normal. She's given birth to a flat scan, a human. Homo-sapient.

She has a freak, looses it, replaces it with a better model, and is even less satisfied. She hates the second kid, 'cos he's normal, 'cos he doesn't go even half way to replacing the freak she lost.

Isn't that funny? Aren't you rolling on the floor pissing yourself laughing now? 

I know part of me is. 

Part of me is still crying, though.

He's still knocking around, that freaky son, working in some sort of circus, probably the main exhibit in a freak show. She's managed to get pictures of him, has them stuck up all over the place, cries over them often enough.

I remember this one time she got herself absolutely rat arsed on the sauce, she hugged me, called me by his name, thought I was him.

It was the only time in my life I ever felt loved by her.

The only time.

Oh yeah, maybe this isn't the end of the story. See, last time I saw her, a short meeting, thank god, I learnt something quite interesting. I learnt the real punch line to this tail. 

They've finally met. The bastard son has finally met the bitch which is his mother. Now, I don't know about the situation, I think they met in America, so perhaps he's left the circus, or perhaps the circus moved here, I don't know, but that's not what's important. 

What's important is that he turned her down, he wasn't interested, didn't want to be her son. 

The only creature she ever loved, the only son she ever cared for, the person I was meant to replace. The kid who she thought about every time she beat me, every time she loved me, the guy who I'm meant to fucking live up to turned her down! He fucking turned her down! HE FUCKING TURNED HER DOWN! 

That one made me laugh, made me laugh until I screamed.

In some ways I guess I'm still screaming.

This isn't just about me, you know, this is about all of us. Every human on this earth. They're our replacement, the mutants; they're the ones that'll inherit the world, if we let them. They might do it through violence, or more insidious ways. They might make us ashamed to be human, ashamed to be normal. 

I'm not sure about much, but I know that's wrong. I won't let my childhood happen to anyone else, I won't let any kid be ashamed of being normal, I won't be second best to some freak.

So that's what my momma made of me, she made me into a man, a human. 

I'm not going to be Kurt- fucking -Wager's replacement, I'm Greydon Creed, a real man, a real son. Humanities last, and best, hope.

And when I get moving, Mutant Kind isn't going to know what hit it. 


End file.
